Empty
by Yellerumbrellas
Summary: It seemed like a reasonable idea when Jinx mentioned it. Summon a demon who'd defeat Slade and find his missing teammates. He just didn't expect her to be Satan's only daughter. Worse, he didn't expect her to be so... alluringly pretty. Pretty things shouldn't devour any souls. Slight AU
1. Chapter 1

**Heeelllooo there. I just want to apologize beforehand to any Black Butler/ Kuroshitsuji fans. I love both shows (comics and manga, too) and fandoms, but I really didn't really like the idea of having this story in crossovers, so there won't be any Black Butler characters. :( Sorry.**

 **This story is rated T for vulgar language. Nothing else, really. There's no smut, or lemons... Not yet, at least. *fading cackle* Okay! Without further ado...**

The deafening blasts could be heard from miles away.

Robin thought he'd known what pain felt like. After years of bitter hatred had coursed through his blood, he thought he'd recognize pain when he felt it. Pain was just that. Bitter and spiteful, burning of sin and rage. Hot, red, violent pain.

But that was not what he felt at that moment.

The pain he felt then could only be described as pure and utter _darkness_. Like someone had slowly cut the first layer of his skin off, and dipped his remains in ice water. The pain was not the fire of hell, but the shadows of that very same fire. It was not gut wrenching or sharp, but slow and dull. And the worst part about it all was, he had no clue where it came from.

Robin winced when the pain ebbed away, only to return even worse than before. With gritted teeth, he managed to pull himself up from the pavement, glancing around at the smoke and debris billowing around him.

His head was swimming, and his vision was beyond impaired at that point. The mask did him no justice, either. All he could see were blobs of brown and black. He knew that if he called out for the others, that would only grow worse. Instead, he pulled out a yellow communicator, gloved hands trembling as he dialed an all call.

"Head west," he gasped, wheezing for breath. His voice sounded so foreign and alien to him. Raspy and deep, clouded with pathetic hopelessness. And besides, he could barely hear himself anyway with all the ringing in his ears.

He heard a faint beeping noise, signaling that someone on the team had received the order. Good, that meant he wasn't as alone as he felt.

With that, he began to make his way toward the bridge, wincing every few steps from the oncoming pain. He tried his best to ignore it, and focused on the structure ahead. That was where the first blast had taken place, where the masked mercenary that haunted his dreams would be waiting. He growled just at the thought of him.

Robin had lost days- no, months- of sleep because of the villain. The cold, monotone voice that seemed to linger in the shadows of his room, twisting and turning, taunting him in his dreams. The one eyed mask that hid his true identity even more so than his own. It honestly infuriated him that some villain could be more secretive than a protege of the Dark Knight.

But he would have the last laugh today. He would be the one walking away. And the other would be the one behind bars.

Last time, the man had somehow managed to hack into Interpol's central system, releasing files on himself and plenty of other most wanted. Then, he'd shut the system down, wiping the files and replacing them with his following plans.

The man was going to destroy all of the major bridges in the world, effectively blocking the trade routes. What he didn't tell them, though, was what bridges he'd blow up, and when he'd do so. Of course, many cities were on edge, and had shut down their bridges, in fear of citizens being hurt. Robin personally thought that was an awfully thought out plan, because they were falling right into the man's trap.

Nobody really knew why the villain wanted to block the trade routes, or what he'd gain from it. But Robin could only assume that it would all be revealed tonight. _Tonight._ Tonight had been the first bridge to be destroyed. Of course, it had to be Jump City's. Home of the resident teen superhero and his team.

He had alerted all other major cities as quick as possible, and sent out a distress signal to all other known superhero teams. That had been a disaster in its own.

For some odd reason, the masked mercenary just loved to taunt Robin. It was all just a game to him. He loved getting a rise out of the boy wonder, and he somehow always did. He knew just how to push Robin's buttons, which drove him near the brink of insanity.

As he neared the bridge, he passed the Tower as well. He stopped for a second, just to admire and appreciate the building. The glass windows gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting murky black waters and a dusty sky. The Tower was close to the bridge. Close enough that they could see it from their living room. And that alone worried Robin enough.

His thoughts were interrupted when another deafening blast was set off a half mile away, and he had to shield himself with his arm to avoid being bombarded with debris.

His senses had left him completely. He faintly heard the villain's voice in the distance before his knees gave out and he crumbled to the ground. He could only see stars, faint bright stars, and he could barely feel the warm liquid that trickled out of his nose and ears, staining his uniform and face.

He felt like he'd been floating on the rivers of hell, only to be plunged into the waters, drowned and suffocated until he was unconscious. And when he finally gained consciousness, it would all be repeated again. Like an endless drill...

Robin thought he had known pain.

He was terribly wrong.

He manage to blindly fumble for his communicator, dialing another all call. With a barely audible voice, he gasped,

"Retreat."

This time, nobody answered.

* * *

"Dammit! Don't you get it?!" Robin yelled, slamming both fists on the bar, startling Jinx, the bartender. "They're gone!"

Rage fueled his veins, frustration pent up inside him. He wanted to break something so badly, maybe a vase or a cup- even better, he wanted to sock some _one_. Now, he was never one to connect violence with anger, but all sanity and morals were flushed down the drain when that man was concerned.

This time, he had pushed Robin too far, though. He had crossed the line.

Jinx simply rolled her eyes at his brash behavior, sliding a glass of his usual scotch over the table. The hero snatched it as soon as it was set on the bar, chugging the liquid rapidly in frustration. This was a normal routine for both of them.

Robin would lose his cool, whether it be over some stupid argument in the Tower, or another petty criminal, and he'd head over to her bar to complain about it and get drunk together. Most of the time a couple scotches and gin and tonic did the trick. But even drunk, he was always irritatingly vague about his problems, never seeming to get to the point until he finished the entire story.

"Does that man still get to you after all these years?" she asked, cleaning one of the margarita glasses from a previous customer. Knowing Robin, he probably had some delightfully long rant planned for her, and she was more than ready to hear it.

The hero scoffed, staring down at the beverage in rage behind a pair of (she could only assume) very expensive, designer sunglasses.

"Jinx, shut the fuck up."

Her eyes widened at his sudden outburst.

He'd known Jinx for a couple of years now, and was well aware that despite her expression, she knew exactly what that answer meant. It was his 'I'm a pissy prick right now, so don't make this harder than it already is' answer. Classically used whenever the subject at hand involved Slade.

Her bar, Thirteenth, was frequently visited by his team, especially himself. Robin always enjoyed a good glass of scotch whenever he was in one of his moods. Or if he just simply wanted to rant to her.

Like just then, he always came in the wee hours of the morning, normally around 2 am, when it was nobody but him and Jinx. She was much less flamboyant than the rest of her team, and her snarky attitude made for good conversations.

The other Titans usually came separately as well, only ever visiting together when they were up for celebratory alcohol. Beastboy came when he wanted a quick hook up or one night stand. Always ordered beer, like all other underaged clubbers. Jinx told him the foul beverage tasted like horse piss, but he only replied that, from personal experience, horse piss wasn't actually that unappetizing.

Starfire came to 'understand earthly customs', but from what Jinx could tell, she just wanted to let loose and have fun like any other teenager. She seemed to enjoy strong Palinka and absinthe, a strange combination that often left her making regrettable decisions.

Cy visited the least often, and when he did, it was always with Bumblebee, as an easy date site. They only had wine together, claiming that it was the 'adult' drink to have.

Of course, they were all still underage, the youngest being seventeen and the eldest being twenty. But nobody at the bar really cared, and besides, Robin knew she would let it slide for a couple of old friends.

"Robin," she sighed, chin rested on her hands as she gazed at him, "could you please stop being a whiny bitch and just tell me what happened?"

"You know what," he muttered, trying desperately to change the subject, "it doesn't matter." His voice was beginning to crack at the thought, and he felt the same misery begin to overcome him, before he shoved it right back down. If she found out, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself. And he knew she'd become increasingly bothersome as well. That would only add another problem to his endless list.

The sorceress only scoffed.

" _Clearly_ it is, since you're so worked up about it," she retaliated. "So just make this easier for both of us, and spill. If you don't wanna talk about it now, I'm sure a few tequila shots will help persuade."

He pursed his lips, grumbling a few incoherent words. He was in no mood for story time featuring Jinx, so this'd better be quick.

"What was that?" she pressed, eyebrow raised in mockery. Oh he was being played, he knew it. He could see it in her eyes. With gritted teeth, he stared her down, eyes never wavering.

Fine. If she wanted to know so badly, so be it. His pride was already ground to fine dust anyway.

"It's over. Slade's gone."

Jinx's grip slipped a little on the glass, eyes darting up to look at him incredulously. Can't say I didn't warn you, he thought while looking at her flabbergasted expression. She gaped at him, hands resting sassily on her hips.

" _What the hell?_ " she nearly screamed, grabbing the scotch from him and raising it high in the air. "Then why are you still so fucking pissy?" The boy wonder only scowled, before simply plucking the drink out of her hands with ease.

"You have a foul mouth, Jinx," he scolded, downing the rest of the beverage in one harsh gulp. if there was anything he hated more than criminals (and Romcoms) it was unnecessary cursing. Especially on a lady. It seemed undignified and hypocritical of him, but he was no gentleman (not with her, at least) so it didn't really matter. He cast her a look, handing her the empty glass. "But if you must know, he's gone. Not the way I wanted him to be, though." The witch gestured for him to continue, lips pursed as she assessed the story.

"He set off a dupe bomb to lure us out. Of course, it worked," he huffed, clutching the newly refilled glass of scotch. "Then, once the team was out, he set off another fake along with a few smoke bombs, just to separate us from one another so he could finish us off one by one." Jinx snorted lightly, sipping her own gin and tonic.

"Honestly, Robin, I would've thought you of all people would be smart enough to not split up when psychopaths were involved."

"We didn't split up," the hero replied defensively, frowning at the accusation, "he set off smoke bombs which blinded us, and the sheer force of the fake was enough to deafen us. Or me, at least."

Jinx ignored his excuse, swallowing her drink in dangerous amounts, sunset colored eyes trained on him.

"Then, he managed to use my ego as bait," Robin continued, shaking his head in shame. He hated to admit it, but he had a huge ego. Jinx claimed it was even bigger than his head. But, right now, he needed to admit it. For them.

At that, the sorceress burst out in laughter, hand slapping the table in humor. She muttered something about classic stubborn assholes, before Robin shot her a look that shut her up.

" _Anyway_ ," he emphasized, clearing his throat, though voice still low, "his bloody smoke bombs had caused enough damage to us to deprive all of our senses, and we can't really fight half blind. So of course, I told the team to keep heading west, just to see what he was up to."

"'Cause that's a wonderful idea, Boy Wonder," she sneered, "you know Slade always has some trick-"

"Shut your trap and let me finish my story," Robin snapped, glaring daggers at the witch. If he'd known she was going to be such a smart ass about it, he would've gone and bitched about it to Jason. Video calls with him were _always_ interesting.

Jinx raised her hands in defense and pursed her lips. He sighed, before continuing, his voice taking on a rather melancholy lilt.

"I was about half a mile to the bridge, and nearly passed the Tower. Then, out of nowhere, boom. He drops a real one."

The witch was silent as she watched the unusually hopeless boy before her crumble into shards of what he used to be.

"Basically, I was on my knees, barely breathing and six feet under already. And to add fuel to the fire, he sends me a real one. He had set it off close to the bridge, but not on it, thank god. It had been activated on the northern side of the pier, which was absolute chaos," Robin pinched his nose at the memory of clearing the citizens out all by himself, despite being half blind, half deaf, and completely incoherent. "There were people screaming, police yelling, and children dying. All because this man decided to play a quick trick before the real games began."

"But you know what the cherry on top was?" he hissed through gritted teeth, throwing the glass down in anger, nearly shattering it as scotch sloshed out of the edges (much to Jinx's annoyance). " _It wasn't legit_."

"What do you mean?" the witch scoffed, nearly at her wits end with Robin's cryptic story-telling.

"It wasn't a literal attack. He had done it just for the heck of it! The real attack had been in Blüdhaven, just seconds after the dupes had gone off in our city. Of course, we weren't alerted about it because our only superhero team was out fighting _for entertainment_!" he screamed, "Ugh! The nerve of that bastard!"

He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache assaulting him just remembering Slade's abrupt departure and sadistic way of amusement. He had blown up the entire northern side of the pier, just to irk Robin's nerves. There was no prize, nothing to win. Nope, he just did it simply because he _wanted to_. This was not some sort of game to him. But for some enraging reason, the mercenary always seemed to treat it like one.

He watched as Jinx cocked her head in inquiry. Slade was never one to leave a fight first. Especially not from Robin. The man was equally obsessed with Robin as the hero was with him. If Jinx didn't know any better, she would've seen them as an kinky, obsessive homosexual couple (1).

"But that's not why you're upset."

The boy wonder's shoulders tensed, and it took every ounce of his strength not to break down right then and there.

"I'm tired, Jinx," he spoke, voice hoarse, "I'm tired of fighting someone who sees me as a joke, and my time as a game. I don't wanna play anymore games. I just want my team back."

He felt her eyes on him, calculating and thinking. He must've seemed like such a wussy then and there. Moping and whining. Yet, he knew she understood his pain. His only family and friends had been swiped away right under his nose. And for no apparent reason.

"So really, it's not over," she said bluntly, completely overstepping the whole sentimental part of this whole conversation.

"Obviously!" he bellowed, finally feeling hot tears slip out of his eyes, "If it was over, that bastard would be in Arkham right now, hopefully in the highest security cell possible, right next to the Joker and Harley, and I would be in the Tower with my team!"

Once he finished, he dug his palms into his eyes, flushing at the fact that a girl-and Jinx, of all girls- had seen him cry.

"How do you know they aren't dead?" she asked, trying her best to ignore the hero's slight sniffles and red face.

The sniffles stopped. Robin paused, gazing at Jinx emptily.

"There were no bodies."

He watched as she froze, inhaling sharply.

Robin knew he was was a bitter, vengeful person. He hated losing in any fashion and would kill to be on top- literally. He needed to win, whether it be because of a personal issue, or just for the heck of it, he had to win. It was something buried deep inside of him, a sad kind of pride that he would unfortunately never let go of.

And Slade just egged him on. Because he was an enigma that Robin couldn't solve. And since he couldn't solve him, he couldn't win, either. Slade startled Robin, which was odd because he was never startled by anything. He'd never met a psychopath quite like him.

He took absolutely nothing Robin did seriously, no matter how level-headed the boy seemed to act. He saw the Titans as a nuisance to his plans, a few wannabe Justice Leaguers with a color blind leader.

The Joker was the only other person that scared him _more_ than Slade, though he'd never admit aloud that either of them fazed him. The only difference between Slade and the Joker was that Slade took everyone but Robin seriously. And the Joker? Well, he took nobody seriously. Not even his mentor. He cringed at the memories fighting the deranged man back in Gotham. Insane people were all the more dangerous because they were unpredictable. And he hated unpredictable.

But this. This was unlike anything any villain had ever done to him. He'd never had a villain make him feel so small and vulnerable. Absolutely helpless.

No villain in history had ever broken the team up. Not like this.

Nobody had ever dared to dangle the lives of his teammate's in front of his face, threatening to tip them over to the other side with just one wrong move. Nobody had ever stolen his family, leaving no traces behind.

Robin shuddered at the memory.

 _When the debris had cleared, his head was still in the same state. The pounding of his skull had faded into a full throb, and the aching in his limbs had completely vanished. Still barely conscious, he somehow pulled himself to his feet once more, glancing around for signs of the other Titans. But all he got were howling winds and screaming citizens._

 _No bright green star bolts._

 _No emerald fur._

 _No lightning blue sonic canon._

 _No Titans._

 _He was, this time truly, alone._

With a heaving sigh, he buried his face into his elbow, deciding that this was the best time for a pity party. He'd let his steam all out, and now was the time to feel sorry for himself. He just wanted a break from everything. Live a normal life once.

"What if I told you I could help you."

"With what?" he murmured, voice muffled since his head was hidden in the crook of his arm. He was in no mood for small talk and business deals right now.

"Defeating Slade and getting your team back."

He only chuckled darkly, head still hidden in the crook of his arm. No doubt he didn't take her offer seriously.

Help him? What could she possibly do to help him? No normal mortal being could help him defeat Slade. It was impossible. If his team of highly trained meta humans couldn't escape the clutches of the madman, what could a simple witch like her do? Yet, anything that could remotely help him at all was extremely appealing. He wanted to ask her all these things, but couldn't find the words to do so. Instead, he lightly tilted his head up to gaze at her, and asked,

"How?"

She shrugged, placing the empty glass of gin besides her, fingers lacing allowing her chin to rest upon. He took the moment to finish his scotch, worrying that it would soon go to waste if he didn't. Jinx proceeded to look at him with a dry expression, and spoke the words that chilled him to the bone.

"I could summon a demon for you."

He nearly choked on his drink. Was she insane? He decided so when her face remained unfazed by her own answer. He certainly had not been expecting that. Robin didn't know too much about the paranormal world or the beings of the underworld, surely not as much as Jinx, but he was pretty sure that fiends weren't beings to play around with. And how could a demon _help_ anyone?

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, staring her right in the eyes as she shook her head.

"Nope."

"Isn't that, you know, _dangerous_?"

"Well, no. Not on my part, at least," she sucked in a breath. Jinx rapped her knuckles against the table in hesitation. She exhaled, not daring to look him in the eyes. Robin urged her to explain, growing increasingly agitated and impatient. Besides, he was extremely curious as to how a being of evil could help a good doer like himself.

"Here is how it works," Jinx started, tipping her glass from side to side, "I'll summon the demon, since you possess no mythical abilities of any sort."

He scowled at the jab. It was a low blow, even if a tease. It wasn't exactly pleasant to be constantly reminded of being simply human while leading a team of super humans. If the witch realized it, she certainly did nothing about it.

"But you will be the one in the contract."

He arched an eyebrow at her vagueness.

"Contract?"

"Faustian Contract."

His eyes widened. Faustian Contract? He'd only ever heard of those in folklore and books. But knowing Jinx was a witch, folklore was probably not far from the truth. He didn't know too much about it, but he knew it was also known as-

"A Deal with the Devil?"

"Precisely."

He sputtered, trying to form an answer. This was such a bad idea on so many different levels. Bargaining of any sort with anyone wasn't a completely safe road to take, so one with the devil was surely to lead to utter disaster.

"And?"

"Well, basically, this demon will fulfill whatever wish you want it to. Whether you want fame, money, power, or in your case, revenge and your team, they would have to help you achieve it."

Robin swallowed nervously. To say he was skeptical was the understatement of the century. It sounded too good to be true. No way would a monster simply do what he asked just because they were invited via spell casting by some random witch. There had to be some sort of reward for them. A reward he probably had to provide. And he didn't know of possessing anything a demon might have interest in.

Agreeing to it would mean contact with the demon, which scared the living day lights out of him just by thinking about it. He'd never personally encountered any beings of Hell, but if they were anywhere near as scary as the psychos in Gotham (and Slade) he was doomed.

But at the same time, he wanted so badly to crush Slade to bits for humiliating him. The offer seemed almost too tempting.

"What's the catch?"

Jinx hesitated, which made Robin increasingly uneasy about even asking in the first place. He hummed in anticipation, and was rewarded with a less than favorable answer.

"It gets to eat your soul."

* * *

A/N

(1) C'mon, don't tell me you never thought of it.

Until next time,

Yellerumbrellas


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello there!**

 **You guys are too amazing. I was going to wait to post this a little later, but I finished this chapter along with the first and I really wanted to share it with you.**

 **If you hate me for screwing up the Faustian Contract, sorry. But, hey, this is fiction.**

 **I'll be replying to all your fantastic reviews down below at the end of the chapter from now on. If you review after I've posted the following chapter, I'll try my best to private message you. As for guests, I'm sorry, I can't really reply to your reviews :( But I still appreciate them all the same and I send my gratitude through digital hugs.**

 **I don't own any lines from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.**

 **Thanks for putting up with me and my rantings.**

* * *

The peaceful pitter-patter of the dreary winter rain was the only audible sound in the entire Tower that night. Though, it wasn't exactly peaceful for the resident bird. Instead, it was a bold red reminder at how empty the building was, which only gnawed deeper into his guilt.

He sat sitting at the window of the common room, curled into a ball, mask laying to his right whilst staring at the awaiting storm. Dense, livid clouds sprawled over the horizon, billowing forward in an almost graceful fashion. The air seems to still, before being completely disrupted by a sudden low rumble, signaling the anticipated chaos. Yet a single ray of moonlight peaked through, shining a sliver of hope on the city.

If Robin wasn't so angry with the world, he would've looked at it with artistic appreciation. But all he saw was a pathetic piece of purity that somehow managed to wriggle its way into the sinful, dirty world.

He stared closely at the glass, barely making out the reflection of his glassy eyes. They seemed to stare back, only they stared right through him, not at him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had his mask off so freely in the common room, since the other Titans weren't even remotely aware of his true identity. They just saw him as Robin, the fearless leader. But right then, he felt anything but fearless.

He felt impotent and small without the rest of his team. Without his team, he wasn't even Robin, the Boy Wonder. He was just a lonely teenager living in a ginormous glass tower all by himself.

He continued gazing blankly at the swirling clouds ahead, recalling Jinx's words from two nights before.

 _"_ _What if I told you I could help you."_

" _Well, basically, this demon will fulfill whatever wish you want it to. Whether you want fame, money, power, or in your case, revenge and your team, they'd would have to help you achieve it."_

 _"_ _It gets to eat your soul."_

Those words had haunted him for a total forty-eight hours as he replayed the conversation over, and over, and over again. Within those two days, Jump City was eerily quiet. It seemed as though even the petty villains had been shaken up by Slade's attack. But the sudden vacation didn't change the fact that he needed to make a decision. And quick.

Upon agreeing to the contract would be severe repercussions. Death would eventually be one of them. But without his team, Robin was pretty much dead already, so there wouldn't be much of a difference.

It was his fault they were gone in the first place, anyway. He knew that if he didn't do it, the guilt and turmoil would eventually consume him, and he would become less of a hero and more of a vigilante.

That would mean he'd end up like Bruce, and seeing as to how miserable his adoptive father was, that was no life he wanted to live.

It was either that, or he'd go completely delirious, insane from the remorse that ate at him daily.

At that point, Death seemed much more promising.

That night, he only hoped Death himself would come rapping, gently tapping, at his door. And he would embrace it.

With a shaky breath and sullen eyes, he continued to stare at the pitch black storm, wishing he could get lost in all its chaos instead.

* * *

The heavy sound of the club music was barely enough to drown his thoughts.

Robin sulked, pushing around some fruity drink one of shameless waitresses had offered him with a bright red straw. It was far too sweet for his taste. Though it did remind him of a drink that Star liked. He much more preferred his usual scotch.

"Loosen up, kid," Jinx hissed in his ear before yanking him up, "this is a club, not a funeral."

With that, she shoved him into the mass of people, much to his irritation. He hated the feeling of sweaty bodies bumping constantly into one another with no care, and the musky, strong scent of sex and booze that everyone seemed to reek of.

He tried to make his way through to the other side where he could hide from the witch once more, but before he could, he felt a pair of hands grab his arms, pulling him down into a sloppy rhythm he failed to keep up with.

Robin cringed, before politely excusing himself from the invasive girl with a charming smile and a few pretty words.

God, he hated this _so much._

He was never one to go out to clubs and _dance._ He wasn't too keen on picking up girls with his "rad moves" as Beastly would so kindly put it. That was more of the changeling's forte. The only reason Robin had ever come to such a god awful place would be to catch some passing drug lord or serial rapist. Other than that, he tried as hard as possible to avoid them.

But this was, according to Jinx, the best way to lure out the beings of the underworld. He highly doubted that was true, and was pretty sure she just did it so she could watch him make a fool of himself.

She'd claimed that demons pretty much fed on _sinful_ souls only, so the worse of a person you were, the more tasty of a meal you'd be to a beast.

Robin nearly laughed at that. Yes, because a 19-year-old superhero good doer who wore spandex on a regular basis and had a alias like _Robin_ was _such_ a baddie.

But apparently lust was a terrible sin, and anyone within a club of any sort had a tainted soul for that night. Which is why he was there.

And that was only for one sin.

Lust, pride, greed, envy, sloth, wrath, and gluttony. All seven deadly were applicable at a club.

And his job for the night? Somehow manage to emit as much of all seven as possible.

Whether it worked or not, he was under the witch's watch and instructions for the night, and had to play her way.

All the people here were stupid. Wasting their time at a place like this? How shallow.

Everyone in the room just wanted a quick one night stand. He couldn't fathom why, though. They were all just foolishly polluting their own images for desires of the moment that could be fulfilled nightly by someone official.

But whether he liked it or not, he had to put up with it. It was the only way it would work.

Robin's eyes danced around the room, trying to seek an appropriate prey. He quickly spotted a girl sitting alone in the corner of the room, her blond hair piled in a bun of sorts as she hiccuped away at nothing, obviously shit-faced.

She seemed like a pretty good person to feel up.

As he made his way over to her, he straightened out his collar.

Before he could convince the devil he was aroused, he had to convince himself, too. That shouldn't be too hard considering the situation... right?

When he approached her, she giggled loudly, and extended a hand.

He doesn't remember her saying her name, or he didn't care enough to listen, because before she could even speak, he placed a hand on each side of her face, pulling her in for a slaphappy mouthful.

Normal he wasn't so straight forward and assertive, but he needed to be quick tonight. Time was only so precious to Slade.

Teeth clanked and tongues twisted and lewd noises emitted from the other party.

Robin didn't particularly like this kind of kiss. He'd only kissed one girl before and meant it, and that was Barbara back when they were 14. Of course, he had plenty of other flings here and there, but they were never serious and he could never assure himself that he actually like them.

The girl was forceful, gripping his ebony locks in one hand while yanking his chin down with the other. He faintly heard a few cat calls and whistling around them, but chose to ignore them. Instead, he put all of his anger and pent up frustration into that kiss, squeezing the back of her neck so hard it had to have bruised.

She let out a small whimper before he released his grip on her, pulling back as they both panted heavily, her staring at him while he stared through her.

She was just another pretty face in the ocean of people. A pawn in his game.

The blond giggled again, and he pressed his bruised lips to her swollen ones, trying to lose himself in the kiss so he could forget about the fate that awaited him.

When they finished, he only smiled, whispering pretty little lies into her ears before she lost herself, and didn't even realize he'd left long ago.

Lust. Check.

That night, he'd probably sucked face with a good five girls, and had become increasingly worried that he might get oral herpes.

The second girl he'd kissed was in the ladies room, her sitting on the sink, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The only thing he remembers about that one was her loud voice and even louder moans.

The third had taken him to her VIP room after he'd charmed her with a glass of moonshine and signature smile. He could still faintly feel her claws scraping down his back.

The fourth girl was small and petite, but surely as kinky as any. They'd locked lips at the bar, only for a spare moment before her boyfriend came and nearly punched him out. He didn't bother retaliating.

The fifth was boring and plain, so he didn't even bother with the introductions.

By the sixth girl, he had grown irritated that nothing had happened, and decided to leave mid kiss without an explanation. Screw the lust.

Jinx had said the demon would come at night in his most desperate hours.

He wasn't quite sure why no demon had come for him yet. He'd been at the place for well over three hours, and had flirted with a good amount of innocent girls.

It was close to midnight, and he'd never been so distraught. At first, he was ready to accept his fate. But now, he was just irked and miffed that nothing had showed up.

Did the underworld not take superheroes seriously? If not, he was sure heaven would.

"Nothing's happening," he snapped, glaring at the witch who had been downing twelve shots of god knows in the midst of a forming crowd. Jinx wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shooting him an equally nasty look.

"Obviously," she slurred, pulling him into the corner of the club where the bathrooms were. "You're not doing anything! You're not feeling anyone up, you're not being a douchebag, you're not shoving your face with appetizers or scotch, you're not jealous of any other men in this place, you're not hounding any ass, you haven't slugged anyone yet, and you're certainly not procrastinating on anything as far as I know!"

He exhaled slowly running a hand through ebony locks as he stared up at the ceiling. She was so fucking stubborn. Not too mention that besides the tips on what to do, she hadn't helped him at all that night.

His patience was running thin. Dangerously thin.

"I did feel a girl up! _Five_ girls, actually! Or hound her ass or whatever you want to call it," he replied sharply, "And I liked it! That's a sin, right? So tell me where the demons are, hm?"

"You think _Satan_ give two shits? Uh, news flash, everyone in this damn club has that in common. They're all horny. So if you think you're gonna lure out the devil with just that, you might as well give up," Jinx ranted, the alcohol clearly taking a toll on her as her voice raised.

"You think I'm not trying?"

"I don't think you're trying hard enough. Stop being a pussy and live a little."

That's it.

"Fine!" he barked, throwing his hands up in frustration. He was just wasting his time here, anyway. "This is clearly heading absolutely nowhere, so I'm leaving."

The witch snorted, waving him off.

"Ta-ta, Dear! But remember, when you come crawling back to me, begging for your precious little Titans, I won't be there."

Robin had to fight the urge to slap her then and there.

He knew Jinx was probably heavily intoxicated, but that didn't make the sting of her words any less. With a huff, he spun around, pushing his way through the sea of drunken idiots.

* * *

The frigid winter breeze hit his face as he pushed open the door to the club, closing his eyes when he no longer had to hear any of that hardly-could-call music.

The stillness of the air was all it took to tire him.

He trudged slowly into the alley behind the bar, letting his head go slack against the dingy brick.

He was far too sleepy to walk all the way back to the Tower.

Obviously, it wasn't the best idea to just camp out here in the dark, but Robin was a trained crime fighter, so it didn't faze him much.

He closed his eyes, still tasting the lips of the last girl he'd kissed. She was shy and sweet, unlike the other ones. But that didn't make her any more likable to him. He needed someone who would play just as rough as he did. Someone who he'd see as a challenge. Preferably a challenge neither of them one. None of those girls gave him that. They just melted into his hands as soon as he opened his mouth. He could barely remember their faces. They were all blurry and melded together. Like a glob of pitiful putty.

Instead of leaving to return home, Robin stood there, staring at blankly at the dark alley while he reminisced about his time in the club. The silence of the place was rather unnerving, but silence nonetheless that pulled him slowly into slumberland. Lightly gasping for breath, eyes drooping.

Robin could almost hear sleep calling him. Begging him.

"It's quite pretty, isn't it?"

His eyes shot open, glancing around feverishly.

He was very much so awake, now.

His eyes landed on the figure who'd spoken, hidden in the shadows of the alley.

It was a girl.

A girl who had not been there before.

He could scarcely make out her porcelain features in the darkness, but it seemed as if she was gazing at the stars. He could only assume that's what she was calling pretty.

Robin could only see half of her face at the angle he was standing, and he didn't want to move to scare her. Or himself. The rest of her body was shrouded in darkness, away from his curious view.

She ignored his slight gasp of surprise, saying nothing. Only forlornly staring at the constellations in silence.

He moved closer to observe her, and her head whipped around, eyes staring at him dryly. He sucked in a breath, his own eyes widening in surprise and terror. Fantastic terror he thought he'd never felt before.

Now Robin was certain he wasn't dreaming, but in fact undoubtedly mad. Though schizophrenia wasn't so horrifying if he'd the pleasure of seeing that face in his lapses of insanity.

No mortal could've dreamt of seeing a face with such precision and detail. A face of downright sin.

He couldn't make out the color of her deep set eyes, but he could see the thick frame of dark eyelashes that gave them a seductive gaze. That made her all the scarier. Set closely on top of them were a pair of even darker brows, slightly arched in a snarky fashion.

In left hand she clutched a cigarette, occasionally bringing it to her plump lips for a drag.

Her petite, sharp nose made her seem much less intimidating, giving her cold, indifferent face a softer glow to them. Her snowy cheeks flushed slightly pink as her shadowed eyes leered at him with a glassy look.

He studied her sharply cut strands that fell just above her shoulders. A dark shade that reminded Robin of the canopy of the twilight, an indigo that leaned more on the purple spectrum, gleaming from the dim light passing through the alley.

Whether she an angel or demon, he couldn't very so tell. Demons couldn't be so... alluringly pretty. And angels shouldn't have looked at people the way she looked at him. That was just pure sin, and he could tell by her face that she damn well knew it.

He'd never witnessed a beauty quite like her's. He knew Starfire was 'hot' in terms of society, and he rightfully agreed so. But the alien was a naive, fun, flirty girl that was as adorable as a kitten. This girl was nothing near a kitten. No, he decided she seemed much more like a _panther_ , sleek and agile, that could pounce at any given moment.

She didn't necessarily have an 'adorable' or 'cute' glow to her like Star did, but she had something much more. There was a dark, wrongful aura that encased her in all its velvety glory.

She wasn't necessarily the prettiest person he'd ever met. Pretty wouldn't describe her accurately. It was too fleeting, light, and innocent of a word to use on her. Beautiful was not an option, either. It was too nice- too red-lipsticked and natural.

This girl was none of those things. She just had this attractive glow to her, a dangerously attractive glow. A vixen in black, or perhaps a siren of the depths. By far more lustful than any of those other bimbos in the club. They hadn't managed to make as much of an impression on him in half an hour the this girl did in two minutes.

She was mysterious, Robin decided. And everyone knew Robin absolutely _adored_ a good mystery.

"Uh, yeah..." he spoke, words fumbling, "You mean the stars, right?"

She seemed startled by the broken stillness, pondering an appropriate answer before she laughed- no chuckled- a harsh, low grumble, interrupting his angry assumptions. A chuckle that made her all the more... inviting.

She nodded her head, a dull glare that no doubt called him stupid adorning her orbs.

"Yes," she answered pointedly, cigarette meeting her lips once again before she took another long drag.

Though her mouth made no move, her eyes followed him with a silent smirk as she moved closer to him but not enough to uncover her face from the darkness.

"You looked like you were having the time of you're life in there," she chuckled, voice slightly raspy from the cigarette.

He flushed, mouth agape in embarrassment as he began to laugh sheepishly. Great. The only girl he'd taken an interest in all night had seen him fucking around with a handful of other girls. Of course, he couldn't even explain himself without seeming like an absolute lunatic, so he could only own up to it.

 _Well, the odds certainly aren't in my favor today._

"Oh," he muttered, "you saw that?"

She only smiled, which worried him even more. She shifted out of the gloom and into the faint light, with a sultry gait that made him tremble. God help him.

In the light, he could see that her eyes were much more exotic than he ever would have anticipated. Two unforgiving pools of ink drenched plums stared back at him, blinking slowly as if to mock him.

They looked absolutely endless, and were colder than the chilling winter frost. A perfect mixture between red and blue. A searing gaze of icy orbs. He'd never seen any color quite like it. It wasn't the purple of amethysts or lavenders. It wasn't the blue of the seas or the skies. It was something of a shade in between, like the color of a blossoming bruise. He'd never thought he'd describe something attractive like that, but they were the only words that fit. A grotesque kind of pretty. A devil's kind of romantic.

If he had looked closer, he might've seen the hunger in them. A yearning that was too dangerous. But he was far too lost in their magnificence.

So far lost that he'd barely registered them flashing crimson. It had happened so quickly, Robin thought it might have been a trick of the light.

But when she only smiled at him, he realized it was very real. She was _very real._

And so were the demons within her eyes.

 _Well, fuck me._

At that, he knew he was dead. He must have been.

Hell was empty, and the devils were here.

Robin had never been so speechless before.

He panicked for the second time that night, movements freezing. There he was, standing within ten feet of the epitome of evil, and all he could do was gape. So many thoughts raced through his head at that moment, he thought he was going to explode. She could probably make that happen, though.

He decided the best thing to do right now was remain calm, and act oblivious. That's how people seemed to survive in horror movies.

"I'm Robin," he spoke, never wavering, "And you are?"

The girl dropped her cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the toe of her black suede boots. When her face lifted up to look at him, he found himself nearly shaking.

"Does it matter?" she inquired with a teasing lilt, studying him with a tilted head, "I mean, you just want to get in my pants, right?"

The blush came back, this time spreading across his entire body. He didn't know he could feel so hot when it was below freezing outside.

"I-"

"On the morrow you'll just leave me as my hopes have flown before," she purred, leaning in so close that he could smell the scent of tobacco lingering on her kissable lips, "Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore."

"Quoth the _Raven_ ," she smiled deviously, and he knew he was gone, "'Nevermore.'"

A bird or thing of evil, he decided she was both.

But the longer her bitter lips pressed against his own, the surer he was that he could tell no more.

* * *

 **Xaphrin:** I honestly had such a fangirl moment when I read your review. One of the first ever fanfictions I'd read for Teen Titans was your Honeythief and Primeval. To be able to get your stamp of approval is beyond fantastic. I agree with you on the bar part. Robin really doesn't seem like someone who'd rant to Jinx of all people minutes after a traumatizing event. But I thought it would be a more interesting approach to his feelings rather than simply having him reminisce about it all alone. Thanks for the tips!

 **chizakura52:** Thank you! I'll try and update at least once or twice a week (depending on how inspired I feel) hehe :))

 **AngeNoirRae:** Right? I mean, isn't the thought of a sexy demon feasting on the soul of another good looking individual just so hot? Just kidding, and thanks.

 **DoctorWatsabella:** Thank you! I thought maybe I was rushing things, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. And you have great taste in books ;)

A/N

I'm pretty sure that entire second half of the chapter was just easter eggs and foreshadowing within a 'sort-of-poem' about Raven. _That_ was super fun to write. I know the whole Poe thing is kind of overused and cliche, but I thought it was appropriate for the scene. Raven's a dark, mysterious character that has so much quality and potential to just bloom when you're writing about her.

Thanks again,

Yellerumbrellas


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there. Posted in honor of the Teen Titans forum hitting 38K fanfics (without crossovers)! Round of applause to all fellow writers and readers.**

* * *

Raven _loved_ the taste of pride.

Now, nothing felt worse than swallowing one's own pride. It was plugging the opening of an active volcano with a giant cork, or suppressing the tides of the Atlantic. Aggravating, frustrating, and uncomfortable.

But the flavor hubris was always a completely different story. Toxic and biting with a deadly sweet aftertaste. Like swallowing a packet of Splenda after downing several gallons of nail polish remover. And it smelled how you'd think it would. Rubbing alcohol laced with dark chocolate and vodka. Completely deadly and even more disgusting. But just _so_ addicting.

This boy was so addicting.

The arrogance radiated off of him, perfumed and awaiting for someone like her to savor it. The best part about this particular pride, though, was the fact that he had no idea he harbored it. That made him all the more guilty. He thought he was completely innocent of any form of sin, but he was horribly mistaken. His pride was the worst kind.

It wasn't obnoxious or broad, or red and flashing. If she could describe it as a color, she'd say it was a shade around midnight blue. A darkness that many overlooked because of its beauty and facade.

He hid it very well from most people, and didn't broadcast it as freely as many others. But he certainly couldn't fool her. Not the slightest. She could sniff his little soul out from lightyears away, and the closer she got, the tastier _he_ got. It must have just been pure luck that he'd ended up calling for her. But she was, indeed, more than happy to oblige.

All because of that troublesome, yet succulent hubris of his. Just as sinister as the depths of where she came from, and worse than fatal. The one that all those holy people warned others about. They called it the mother of all sins for a reason.

But Raven wouldn't tell him that. Not yet, at least. She'd let him believe he was the hero he pretended to be all the time, and that the only reason she was here was because he forced the sin of _lust_ upon himself.

Which was utter bullshit if you asked her.

Lust was such a stupid, amateur kind of immorality. It was hard to believe humans could actually be unrestrained simply by another's touch. She wasn't some lowly succubus preying on mindless mortals for her own self amusement. Lust didn't appeal to her kind, anyway.

As a matter of fact, she couldn't really understand the appeal of any of the other Seven. Or _maybe_ that was just her pride talking.

The only other sin Raven even remotely accepted was envy, because it was so directly related to pride. Believing something rightfully belonged to you more than another was pretty conceited. But even that could not satiate the hunger crawling inside of her.

Only pride. _This_ kind of pride that she hadn't tasted in so long.

Speaking of which...

Raven glanced around the pizza parlor, tapping the glass of ice water with slender, burgundy fingers. She rarely found herself at such casual diners, but Hero Boy had insisted they find a good negotiating spot. He'd suggested his tower, but she declined, knowing the place would be haunted of his sweet memories that she couldn't care less about. So in compromise, he'd proposed a regular restaurant of his.

The moonlight filtered in through the front windows, giving the place a cold, distant glow. A thin layer of frost lay bare over the glass, and she impulsively wanted to go and wipe it off. Raven could vaguely hear the football commentators bickering about some play on the flatscreen displayed above her, and smell the sweet scent of Cuban cigars that wafted through the parlor (courtesy of her little smoke fest earlier in the ladies' room). She closed her eyes in bliss, trying to enjoy the moment all to herself.

A grating noise to the left pulled her back to reality, and her head tilted backwards to watch as someone familiar pulled out a chair to join her. His black hair hung loosely in a rugged bedhead way, nearly sweeping over the brim of his sunglasses. A simple Gotham Knights sweatshirt clung to him, and a pair of black running shorts that seemed much too cold for the weather. The entire getup would have caused her swoon...had she been a normal girl.

"It's not polite to keep a lady waiting," she snipped tauntingly, loving the way he squirmed slightly under her gaze. Robin adjusted his shades unconsciously, shifting in his chair to face her. She could feel the contract buzzing between them, heated and painful. She knew the harder he resisted it, the more pain it would cause him. And it would be horrific pain that would damage that stupid pride of him. The mere thought was oh so satisfying.

"I had some business," he murmured, scratching the back of his head cheekily.

"No business is more important than our business. Time is money, pretty boy," Raven retorted. His lips twitched in agreement, but no words came out.

"Let's just get to it," Robin sighed after a few second passed. He slid a fuzzy photograph across the table, accompanied with a few typed notes at the bottom. Judging by the quality and setting, it looked like it'd been taken from some surveillance camera. The man in it was easily over 6'4, broad shoulders suited in armor. His face seemed to be covered by some mask, though she couldn't really tell by the angle and blurriness. At the bottom was written: 01/8, and she assumed it meant the date the picture had been taken.

"So this is why you wanted me?" Raven wondered aloud, holding up the picture with two fingers.

"I don't _want you_ ," he panted, glaring at her behind his shades, wiping his mouth while balancing himself on the counter, "I barely know you."

She growled lowly and shoved him so hard he nearly tumbled off his seat. But internally, she was smiling so much it'd be hard to believe she was even evil. _So much_ pride. So much that he was even denying his involvement with her kind. What a _fool_.

"Does it matter?" she pressed, "You obviously _need_ me, or you wouldn't have invited me for dinner."

"I'd hardly call pizza dinner."

"Too bad, I ordered us a pepperoni."

Robin massaged his nose bridge before inhaling sharply, obviously agitated by the useless banter. She smiled in satisfaction.

"I asked for a demon-"

"I prefer the term Underworld-ly Teammate," she said simply, leaning back in her chair. He only squinted in response, fingers brushing with hers before pushing himself backwards. He opened his mouth to argue, but she beat him to it. "What is it you want?"

Robin looked slightly infuriated, and she felt a sense of her own filthy pride at that. She watched with careful eyes as he leaned in, studying her and analyzing his next moves. He seemed to be having an internal war with himself, which didn't surprise her. The boy looked as if he wanted so badly to bite back with an equally smart remark, but was holding against it for obvious reasons.

Finally, he sighed in defeat, slouching back.

"I want revenge," the boy breathed, quite frankly. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his bluntness, moving to wipe the glass of iced water away. Humans were such fickle beings, never once thinking two steps ahead of any idea.

"No shit, hero boy. I think we've already established that."

He shook his head while clutching the sides tightly, astonished and confused.

"What do _you_ want to hear from me? I want-"

"I _know_ you want revenge. Everyone does, it's human nature. That doesn't tell me anything," she cut him off, raising a hand to silence him.

Throughout the years, Raven had learned that many people had different ideas on revenge.

Some believe that death is too easy, so they go for torture. Now, despite being a fiend of hell, she wasn't actually too fond of all the blood and gore involved in that method. She much more preferred a clean cut and swift execution. Others want fame and power so they can finish off their enemies themselves. Raven admitted that that route was much more appealing to her.

But considering how intellectually egoistic he was, she firmly believed it could have been either one of those. Besides, he was a hero, and heroes never killed until it was their last resort. His pride would force him to abide by that principle. He probably had this all thought out to the very last detail.

"I want him dead."

Raven swallowed hard, partially in surprise, and partially in disturbance. From the little glimpse of his character she'd received earlier, he didn't seem like someone who would go as far as kill. Robin was a proud hero, not some deranged vigilante. So whoever was on the receiving end of this revenge must've done something unspeakable to deserve such a fate.

But what disturbed her most was the fact that he had not said, 'I want to kill him' or 'I need you to kill him.' No, he just said, 'I want him dead.' At that point, he didn't care who did it, or how it would be executed. Care of everything else had gone down the drain. All that mattered to him was the endgame. That was true bloodlust at its finest. She wouldn't ask him why, or how. That part wasn't important.

"Good," she continued, ignoring the pained cringe he bore. "Do you have a set plan for this termination?"

"Yes," he answered snippily, "First, we need to find him."

"And who is he?"

Robin looked lost for words. She could see past the glasses that his eyes were clouded with rage. Rage he so carefully masked with impassive features and a calm posture.

"His name is Slade Wilson," he began, pointing at the picture. "He's a mercenary of sorts that resolves to extremist measures. Two nights ago, he bombed Jump City's bridge to distract us from the real attack in Blüdhaven."

"Us?" She allowed her face to soften a little- just a smudge- when he nodded slowly, staring at something behind her. She followed his eyes to a framed newspaper in the far corner. The distance of it blurred the image, but if she squinted hard enough, she could barely make out a few faces plastered on the front.

"I have this team. Heroes of Jump City, or something along those lines. We've been together for some time, and the people here respect us." He paused, exhaling defeatedly. "That night when the bombs set off," he made a mocking explosion motion with his hands, "they disappeared."

Raven forced down the exasperated sigh she was going to let out.

"So you want me to find this man in hopes of finding your team, then kill him?"

Robin nodded nonchalantly, drumming his fingers against the bar.

"Time limit?"

"One week, tops."

She clasped her hands together gratefully. That was plenty enough for her.

"We can work back at the Tower if you want," he droned.

Raven bit her lip in nervousness. She purposefully avoided going back to the homes of her clients for certain reasons. First, she didn't want to make herself feel at home, only to leave afterwards in a frenzy due to the sudden death. That just called for a lot of inconvenience and travel expenses she couldn't pay. Second, she hated having to see their family members, and make up some stupid lie as to why she was going home with Daddy when Mommy was sleeping in the room next door.

But most of all, she hated having to relive their memories and passions in her dreams. Memories that were buried deep within the walls and floating about in empty corridors. Haunting her and scratching at her legs, always threatening to invade her at any given moment in her slumber. She didn't want to have the burden of paranoia, constantly checking and rechecking behind her for any loose end reminiscences and tiptoeing around every corner to avoid confrontation the morning after. All in all, it just wasn't worth the stress.

"That wasn't part of the deal," she responded hoarsely, hating how small she sounded. Raven was sure the boy could hear the uncertainty in her words, and she didn't like it one bit.

"I don't care," Robin shrugged dryly, "You get the pleasure of eating me, so as far as I'm concerned, you do as I say. And I say we work at the Tower."

She blushed a bit at his crude choice of wording, both in anger and humiliation. Out of all the endless clients she'd served in the past, none of them had dared talk down to her as if she was some obedient pet. Sure, they'd spoken lewdly and rudely, but they always saw her as the boss, the one who laid down the rules. Raven wouldn't have it. Not then, not now.

"Let's get something straight," she hissed, bringing her face so close to his she could see the terror behind his sunglasses, "I am not a fairy godmother, nor am I a genie. And I am certainly not your bitch, so don't think for one second that I give two fucks about what you say. I'm the one that's saving your petty superhero team from Hell. We're in this together."

Raven brought herself back, panting from the fury. She kept her view on the boy, who looked shocked as well. If fear was a scent, than that's what she was smelling right now. Despite that, he definitely wasn't backing down.

"The database has access to a government GPS system with alternate classified routes, and grade A transportation and weaponry," Robin stated firmly, ignoring her warning.

 _Ok, fine. We'll play it his way,_ she thought, feeling the hot anger subduing as he seemed completely unperturbed by her threat. She'd agree with him, just this once. _Humor me._

Her parted lips let loose a stream of low, hearty laughter, quiet enough so only he could hear. His breath hitched, and she silently thought that made him look all the more adorably clueless.

"I don't need some high-tech computer to find your guy," she claimed haughtily, "All I need is a possession of his."

Robin smiled knowingly, and tossed the photo over to her.

"I think I can pull a few strings. Pleasure doing business," he smirked, extending a hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," she insisted truthfully.

At that moment, the waitress chose to bring the pizza Raven had so graciously ordered. But neither of them lifted a finger to touch it. Instead, they were busy staring one another down, gazes not wavering for a single second.

"When should we begin our search?" she inquired, batting her eyelashes teasingly.

"Tonight, if that's fine," he replied, ripping off a slice of pepperoni a little too forcefully. "We can head back to the Tower after this."

"You seem to have all of this planned out."

But he wasn't listening. She could see through the side of his sunglasses that his eyes were closed, and his breathing had slowed to a steady, predictable pace. Had she not felt the bombarding emotions, she would've assumed he was asleep.

Raven seized the moment to study him, scrutinizing every pore and follicle. He was good-looking, no doubt. But she didn't partially care too much about that, though. In the end, all that mattered was how tainted his little soul was. How much goodness and purity she could rob him of. Squander his beliefs until all that was left was the dark, sour wrongfulness. Judging by what she'd already gotten a taste of, that would be easier than stealing candy from a child.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asked suddenly, shattering the silence she'd let build upon them.

So he was stupid and proud? This was just too good.

Raven had kissed him to seal the deal and set the contract in motion. It bound her to him and vice versa. She wasn't too happy about being stuck with him for a while, but if it meant getting his soul... well.

The other selfish part of her knew that she'd kissed him because it was the only way to get a sample taste of that delicious proud scent she'd smelled eons away. She needed to make sure he was a meal worth saving. Of course, Raven would never admit that to him, though. That would mean she'd also have to tell him about his sinful nature he wasn't even aware of, and she wanted him to figure that bit out on his own.

"You just looked so hopeless and lost," she answered with a shrug, waiting for his reaction. He only grunted in reply, eyebrow arched and lips pressed in a tight smirk, as if she'd said something terribly funny.

She figured he knew more than enough, so she said no more, staring up at the fluorescent lights.

She could still taste the sickly sweet aftertaste of him, and chose that moment to savor it. Raven would have fun with this one, she just knew it. Of all the souls she'd had the pleasure of feasting on before, none of them were quite like this. Dark and sorrowful, masked with layers of artificial purity and bullshit goodness. A _hero_.

"How badly do you want this?" Raven chortled, crossing her ankles as she leaning farther back in her chair. Robin furrowed his brows, crossing his arms in a defiant way.

She swallowed hard when he removed his sunglasses, slightly disappointed when his eyelids fluttering shut before she could glimpse them. He moved his fingers up to rub them slowly, digging deep into his eye sockets.

He kept his eyes closed when he spoke, words firm but remote.

"Enough to sell my soul to you."

* * *

 **DoctorWatsabella:** AYE PJO reference, waddup. Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed it!

 **Killie159:** Thanks! She's such a deep character and I love to write about her. I guess after reading this chapter you can see that Raven is in fact pride, but Robin just doesn't know it yet. She's obviously very proud herself (as is he). He just _thinks_ that she's lust. For now. I'm so happy that you like the comics, though! I personally love them, and I'm so sad that she's not in more editions.

 **AngeNoirRae:** OML THANKS! I had a lot of fun rereading the Raven and dropping those hints in there again and again. And don't worry, I'll be updating ;D. Demons are pretty sexy, huh.

 **Anonymous Latina:** No, it's not weird at all! It's actually partially based off of that show, as I mentioned. And ik, it's a fabulous show (personally, I hated the ending of both seasons, though) Thanks!

 **MysteryGirl2401:** Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.

 **la canelle:** Coming soon :)

 **anlmoon** : Thanks! Hope you like my following crappy chapters.

 **DeadxXxInside:** Demoness Raven is the best Raven ;) Thank you!

A/N

I don't know if I liked this. I think Raven was kind of OOC, which I'll try to change. I tried to make her sound as proud as I think her to be, and I hope you can tell with her thoughts and mannerisms.

Until next time,

Yellerumbrellas.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello my good people after like a month and a half. I'm sure you've all seen plenty of 'I hate school ugh' intros in recent fic updates to care, which is why I'm not gonna complain. Though school is the sole reason why its taken me so long. And I'm a procrastinator (finished my chem homework at 10:30 last night along with this chapter), so there's no excuse for that.**

 **Also, I absolutely love responding to you guys, so if you do review as a guest, please do me a favor and make sure to put your preferred internet name (of sorts, it can be Cheesecake330 if you want) in the name box above your review so I can reply to you without having to refer to you as 'Guest' or 'Reviewer Number 12'. Thanks friends.**

* * *

She wondered exactly how many cigarettes it would've taken to cover up the reek of whale-sperm, decaying bird remains, and rotting kelp. _Terrible_. Absolutely terrible. Raven never liked the beach anyway.

Generically limited photography with vomit-inducing poses from the same teenagers, the same headache inducing color-schemes, peeling skin the following day that she swore was worse than a stupid hangover, nobody minding their own business, the unspoken competition for the best 'beach-bod', the little critters, children's high-pitched whining as they pranced about with hastily smeared sunscreen that she compulsively wanted to blend.

Mostly though because the beach was just plain unsanitary. Germs everywhere. Everywhere. The only place with more germs was the pool.

Bird feces, fish feces, dog feces, and the occasional human feces were scattered everywhere. Sand and salt were always blown into whatever food she was eating, which only gave a giant mouthful of eroded rock. In water, there was fish puke, _child_ puke, animal remains, whale sperm. Did she mention whale-sperm?

The ocean was not so much of a wonderful place.

No, she thought with a cringe, _nature_ was not so much of a wonderful place.

Raven wasn't sure why exactly they were outside doing research. Instead of inside. Where the computers and central database were. The more she thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that it was because Hero Boy was having second thoughts on officially letting her in the place after all.

Not that she was complaint. No, she was singing to the Heavens for rejoice and gratitude.

"So Slade Wilson," Raven muttered, glancing at the laptop in Robin's lap, who was position a few feet away from her, back stiff as a board.

"Uh-huh."

A button nose wrinkled at his crisp reply, staring past the luminous dark waves reflecting slivers of white light, the glossy view of the city bridge presenting itself under the stiff fluorescent streaks of moonlight. If she squinted far enough, she could see the faint yellow tapes surrounding the concrete structure, blocking off any traffic. Though there didn't seem to be any signs of actual damage on the bridge. Under the bleak light, it looked like a ghost town.

Despite the beckoning of light from the full moon, Raven couldn't help but notice how untouchable and distant the scene seemed. So indifferent and... cold.

A lightbulb from the hanging lamp behind her buzzed and hummed along with the little bugs crawling for warmth. She wondered how they'd survived past the cold.

And then Raven stopped wondering and just started lighting Marlboros.

Spindly fingers rolled the paper cigarette between them, slowly bringing it up to her lips in a slow, lazy motion as she took one long drag, the biting gasses filling her up like a warm cup of coffee. Though she much more preferred a nice Camel to some over-priced thermos of Starbucks in the early hours. Raven wasn't about to lie- chainsmoker wasn't any news. One after another, whipping through her lungs like a cold winter breeze.

She ran her hands through her dark locks, the dry winter air dancing through them as well, staring desperately into the dark waters to see if she could find a reflection.

Her hands reached for the thick manila folder tucked between her arms, scribbled on in neat loopy handwriting: Slade Wilson.

The cigarette was brought up, pressed between red-stained lips until a good amount left her mouth.

She didn't know how many had been lit after that. She didn't want to care.

It wasn't until she could scarcely see her own outstretched fingertips in the dim glow that Raven realized enough was enough. Her blurry, squinted eyes burned like Hell, sore from the bitter white puffs invading dark irises. The air- that skin crackling air- was billowing with a thin cloud of smoke, pale and choking. These were lit by the morning smolder, barely visible against parting clouds, rebirthing gray fumes as silver puffs, lighting up the living space like a flurry of polished glitter would.

Dark lashes pressed against frigid cheeks, cool orbs fluttering close, loving the searing shock that came along with it. Ragged gasps escaped chapped parted lips as she inhaled deeply, enjoying the slicing of smog against her raw throat.

Her eyes shifted, squinting past the fuzzy air surrounding her to gaze at the skyline again. It felt so nice, so warm and cozy, that she didn't want to admit the little jolt in her chest when Robin turned around to face her, brows furrowed and lips down turned.

"I'd appreciate if you left your cancer sticks out of my home."

Raven mentally noted the condescending tone buried within his words, a little bitter and a little sour.

She'd memorized the near-silent patter of his steel-toed boots, and wasn't the least bit surprised when he leaned down from behind her; so close could feel his warm exhales fanning over a feather pale cheek. She had to bite her tongue to ignore the feeling of little tiny moths fluttering on the surface of her face. The proximity, much like the smell of the Tower, was conclusively smothering.

Dilated pupils compulsively checked the simple wristwatch, one she always wore. Analog, of course. It was two thirty-four. And far too early.

"I know, hemp smells a hell of a lot better, but I'm afraid this is all I have. Not counting the nose candy under my pillow-" a slurred trickle of laughter flitted from her lips- "that stuff really wakes you up."

The scowling on his forehead was as subtle as her humor; something she'd found he regularly resorted to when words would not suffice.

"Smoking at a your age puts you at a 90% risk of gaining schizophrenia," Robin hummed closely beside her, so very lightly, as if he were observing damn birds. "Did you know that?"

That stupid, _stupid_ bubbly know-it-all laugh was trying to shove its way through again, but Raven swallowed it when she couldn't help but feel a bit insulted. He had a sharper tongue than she assumed. But he was always full of surprises.

"Yes. I'm sure someone of my age would," Raven breathed slowly, following his gaze to the still waters outside, "though anyone of _my age_ would also most definitely be crazy."

Her lung-rep wasn't something to be particularly proud of. But whatever terrors it held, Raven'd gotten used to it all after some time. Some long, long time ago, the pounding of her head had dulled to a light throb, and the erratic breaths into shallow intakes of air every so often. The giant plug in her chest was lifted, gusts of wind filling the carefree hollowness inside her.

Stress literally rolled off her shoulders, gliding down from the loosely displayed arms hanging at her sides.

"Remind me again why we're doing this when I told you I was perfectly capable of finding him on my own terms?" she asked, words clipped while sorting through a long, very long, list of victims from Slade Wilson.

Robin huffed incredulously as if he'd repeated it a million times previously, a white cloud of condensation escaping his lips. She found it made him all the more insufferable.

"Because I don't actually have any of his possessions," he sighed dejectedly, "And if we want to find anything that remotely belonged to him, we need to trace him back to wherever he last was. Now stop complaining- please." That last part had been added with gritted teeth, more of an afterthought.

Impatient, insensitive, obsessive compulsive little twat.

"Sorry I asked," Raven muttered under her breath.

"Where was his last activity spotted prior to the attack in Blüdhaven?" Robin asked, ignoring her last comment, gaze retreating back to the bridge.

Raven sniffled in the cold, fisting the sleeves of her winter coat in frustration. There was no point in arguing with him- that would only postpone her meal. Might as well hike up her skirt and deal. So instead of lashing out, she squinted at the papers scattered about the shoreline, flying everywhere. Finally catching the one she was looking for, holding it tightly to her chest before scanning the words.

"Says here that he was involved in large trafficking rings across in the East Coast, having had the regular cocaine and LSD shipped in large cargo planes employed by another un-named organization," she explained, tongue clicking, "Though the usage of these ports has been outdated for sometime. They're all listed as having their last delivery more than a year ago."

Raven shook her head, tucking the manila folder under her arm again with a quick shake of her head.

This was so useless. She would not let herself dwell on Hero Boy's issues. She was just here to get rid of them, and the costs would not be pretty. But she supposed he already knew that.

Though the lingering question of 'who was he' was still in her mind, and became irking after some time. There was always the possibility that he wasn't really a bad man. Just a bad man in the eyes of Robin.

"Check his public arrest records for me," he requested when she stopped to glance at him.

Raven snatched another folder, one amongst the hundreds piled high beside her. Paper trail, medical records, victims, international affiliations... She finally reached criminal records, which was a stack of three folders each with the thickness of a twice-edited limited edition third volume Oxford Dictionary. She would know. She had all twenty volumes.

Public arrest records were buried somewhere deep inside the second folder, behind New Hampshire murders and Night Patrol records.

"Nothing's been entered since five months ago," she hummed, careful to hide the confusion in her voice. "Are you sure your database has been updated recently?"

"Of course," he responded, fingers paused while he scrolled through a link, "our technician does biweekly updates."

"Well then he hasn't been active since then. Well, he hasn't been active enough for the feds to catch up."

Robin snorted, looking up from his computer to stare at her files.

"They never do."

So she assumed.

Eyes fluttered shut at the strong gust of air blowing her hair back. The wind was not the annoying, shrill whistle it normally was; rather a low feather-throated cough that seemed to ruffle the cat-tails scattered about the edges of the island. One of the few things about the place that did not irritate her.

Other than the ill-noised gale billowing along the beach, everything was eerily silent. The birds had fled south several months before, leaving not even a trail of feathers to remember warmer times, and the crickets had shivered and shriveled up in the frozen rainfall, their happy chirps absent. Just like the rest of the Tower, deserted and lifeless.

She wondered if it'd always been so pathetically lonely there. She didn't care enough to explore and find out, but the curiosity was still there, nonetheless. No, not some deep, meaningful intimacy hidden behind whispers of the past. Raven was sure that was cliche and non-existent.

This Tower, this poor Tower. It was just this depressing skyscraper, gleaming majestically against the powder-blue horizon. Not only was the exterior a bit dramatically pathetic, but the waters surrounding it were brilliantly haunting.

It was just bizarre. Everything about it was terrifyingly bizarre.

There was a huge difference between being proud and being obnoxious. Robin was proud. And the Tower was just obnoxious. A giant, glinting glass 'T' in the middle of the California Bay, the only tower that tall for miles to come. For four fucking teenagers. Four _superhuman_ teenagers, maybe, but teenagers nonetheless.

The Tower was horrifying. The Tower- a lone diamond statue amidst a crowd of wandering dirt statuettes that didn't spare a second glance. The statuettes being anyone who wasn't a Titan. Something about being a 'somebody loved by nobody' came to her dazed mind, and she silently wondered if the citizens actually cared about the so called super heroes at all. Or was it just the issue of personal security?

She shook her head, ignoring the cynical rhetorical questions plaguing her mind.

"Where was he born? Maybe he headed back there for some time to plan," she suggested, trying to find the birth certificate papers, "Most people feel safe and familiar in their home."

She searched aimlessly, hands spazzing out to grasp the papers being blown away by the breeze. The boy shook his head, fingers running through the keyboard at an impeccable pace.

"He deleted any trace of his past before he even became a wanted criminal. It's why there's no file in there that says 'personal records'."

This time the roll of her eyes was not suppressed. Obviously they were getting nowhere. She would suggest an idea, and it would be shot down by Robin before she could even elaborate.

"What about Gotham?" Raven tried again, "That's the biggest trading center in America, and you said the whole reason to attack the bridges was to postpone trade."

More clicking on the keyboard.

"Most likely not," Robin stated simply, as if explaining to a very young child, "Gotham is on the opposite coastline. It would take about five hours and twenty minutes to fly to Gotham, but there's no way he would've taken a plane because he needs to avoid air marshals. It takes a good week or two to drive there, so that's completely out of the question. And by train is just as long, so _no_ , it would _not_ be Gotham."

Smart-ass.

"So what do you propose?" Raven all but spat, sick of all of her ideas being rejected over and over.

The keyboard clicking paused for a moment.

"He has a warehouse. It's somewhere in the suburbs of the city. I've only been there once, but..." Robin's raspy morning voice explained, "he should have something hidden there. If not, you can use whatever's left of his to find him. It's most likely best if we walk there." The little waver in his voice did not go unnoticed by her.

She glanced at the files fisted in her hands.

"So when do we start our trek?"

He glanced at the time on the corner of his laptop.

"About now, actually. Before any of the citizens come out. It's best to avoid them as long as possible." If she hadn't been aware of his true intentions, she might've thought he sounded a bit dejected and sad about having to avoid all those loving citizens.

"Worried they'd mistake us for a couple?" Raven joked flatly, snuffing her Marlboro with one stab to the sand.

She hadn't expected for Robin to laugh. He laughed. In contrast to her own sharp, barking noise that was more cutting than anything, his was so bright and jovial, almost to the point of sounding faked, and a bit shaky. It was the most frightening thing she'd ever heard.

At this, she allowed herself a peak- a quick side-eyed glance, no more than a second- at his stance, frozen mere millimeters away. But it allowed her to look at him.

The usually spotless face of youth was speckled with tiny sunspots Raven'd never noticed before, pale little freckles scattered about the bridge of his nose and smeared with a tad of dirt and grime. Not enough for anyone else but her to notice. His skin was shiny against the dim light of the computer screen, illuminated into a gilded sheen, sweat trickling down his neck in unbearable slowness.

And then... and then she made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Or rather, where his eyes should have been. Instead, her gaze met her own eyes, reflected in the same dark glass of his sunglasses. She could just reach out and...

Burned. She would have been burned had she reached out.

This stinging, blazing spark of what felt like sheer annoyance settled over her, and for once, she wasn't completely sure why. Raven would never admit aloud any of her curiosities. There was nobody in the world to hear them. Or hear them and care, at least. Also because she was rarely ever curious. But she was angry, for some reason, at Robin. She was angry and annoyed at him for covering his eyes. Raven didn't know why, but it really just irked her.

She might never see his eyes. And that worried her. Christ, _it worried her_.

That one saying lovers always doted on came to mind. Something about eyes being the windows to one's soul. Of course, they were both far from lovers, but that didn't keep the statement from being any closer to the truth.

Which only added to her worry, of course.

Despite this, she swallowed whatever remaining worries and put on a smile, so plastic it could've broken any minute.

"No," he continued to laugh, "I'd be worried if they didn't mistake us for a couple."

"Oh yeah?" Raven inquired, subconsciously scooting closer when he shut his laptop, almost anxious that if she didn't he would fly away. That would be a waste of such a great meal.

"Yeah," he repeated with a slap-happy smile that she realized looked much more maniacal up close, "'Cause then I'd have to explain what we actually were."

* * *

 **Chi3:** AHH! *Wipes away tears of relief* That was so very kind of you! I think I sometimes overthink the whole 'let's keep it in character' schtick, but I'm so glad you liked it. I absolutely love Raven and Robin as characters because they have such colorful qualities and backstories, but I suppose I can always try to incorporate Little Miss Sunshine's character into a demon as well. Thank you!

 **Anonymous Latina:** Yeah, it is a Black Butler themed concept. Kind of. And as for Black Swan and Twilight, I hadn't thought of it that way, but the plot is rather dark-themed and 'tragic' (it's not angst though, because... well...), if you will, so I can see where you'd get that impression. Thanks!

 **Xaphrin:** Thank you so much! Souls and their tastes are definitely something I think writers can play with, seeing as it really depends on who they are. As for their relationship, I've always seen it as one of wits and words amongst arrogance, stubbornness, and other things, so I find them interesting as well.

 **Elisablackcat:** Why, thank you! :p

 **Stickman6969:** Thank you! So glad you like my portrayal of her because lemme tell you, I was so worried everyone would think I had no clue how to write Raven.

A/N:

I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea wth this was. I wrote it at like seven in the morning on red bull while watching reruns of Desperate Housewives. I've just been postponing because I have so much schooooool.

A lot of you seemed to like my portrayal of Raven, which I'm so happy to hear about. For the guest user who commented without a name on the previous chapter (and any other guest users who've commented w/o a name), I'm really sorry I didn't get to reply to you, but I did appreciate them and did take your suggestion and tried to add some of her dry wit in there.

So please, please, please add your name if you are reviewing as a guest so I can reply.

I like to imagine that Raven uses phrases like "Oh my Lord", "Christ", "Good Heavens", "Oh God" just for the irony of it all.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

As always my friends,

Yellerumbrellas.


	5. Chapter 5

**Greetings. Wow. It's been like, what? Four months? Took me that long to write this piece of- This is like 5.5k of just dialogue. Seriously. Sorry. I was starting to miss you guys.**

* * *

"So basically," Jason's voice rang across the crackling line of the communicator, wheezing between laughter, "they let me pass five borders without as much as a pat down. Europeans are wild, man."

Robin rolled his eyes, shrugging the comm up to rest against his shoulder. The morning perspective of Jump City was below him, a bright, cold bite in the air as he outstretched his arms. The view of the city atop Coastal Brokers was one he'd seen far too many times during patrol nights, and if memory served, not once by daylight.

"And the babes, dude. The babes," Jason sighs contently.

He allowed himself to smirk, even if for the stupidest reason. For a moment, Robin'd completely forgotten why he called in the first place, but something told him it wasn't to hear Jason rave about busty espionages. Of course, there _was_ reason for him to call so abruptly. There was always a reason.

Despite absolutely loathing him down to the very core of his being (at times), Robin still regretfully considered Jason to be family. He liked to tell himself that whatever hostility they held towards one another after the latter's exhibited involvement in playing vigilante had been wiped away by time and grief.

"I'm glad you had your fun terrorizing Lebensraum."

He then focused on the girl laying on the crumbling pavement of the roof a few fifty feet away, her thinly clad legs suspended off the edge as she stared plainly at the brightening sky, and swallowed hard. They'd spoken not a word after their departure from the Tower; he was somewhere between being appreciative that she'd backed off, and completely shattered over her unexpected stillness.

Alternatively, she handed him fleeting grins that ranged between all-knowing and questionably glacial, though no matter the meaning of her lips, her eyes'd remained calculatingly lukewarm.

Had he said something wrong? No, obviously not. He never said anything wrong. Blunt, and perhaps a bit lacking in empathy. But not _wrong_. He gulped with little thought, glancing at the communicator clutched by his ear.

Suddenly came a chortling sound on the other line, and he couldn't help but imagine it was Jason being throttled.

"Ah, ah," Jason cooed, "hasn't been Lebensraum since the fifties. You're slipping, Dickie. Besides— terrorizing? Please, I was doing a benevolent service—"

"You stole a 14th century painting that was supposed to be auctioned off at a starting bid of three million."

Robin could almost _hear_ the eye-roll.

"You're not stopping me, are you?"

The elder laughed, for the first time the whole night, in amusement.

"No. As far as the media's concerned, the Titans have no affiliation with International thievery. No matter how serious."

"It was just a _heist_ , dude, not some terrorist act upon Her Majesty, so don't get your tights in a wad. And nearly getting castrated by a seven-hundred-year-old painting wasn't exactly my ideal New Year."

There was a crackling sound on the other line, followed by a stream of muffled expletives and a lot of banging noises. Then came a faint mumble from Jason in the distance after the jingling of locks and chains was heard. His first instinct was profiling the situation, and so far, it sounded like the other was being thrown around in a prison cell.

Another set of jingling noises rang from the other end, causing his eyes to flick back at the comm.

He glanced at Raven, who was still busy eyeing the rise of dusk in silence to notice Robin's odd facial expressions in reaction to the noise on the other end of the comm.

"Jason," Robin started with caution, "where _are_ you?"

When the other line had stayed unresponsive, he shook the comm, pressing it to his ear while his forehead crinkled in worry. More familiar muffled sounds.

Then, "I just crossed borders from Austria to Switzerland."

"No, I mean—"

The ever-so displeased scoff was sent through the communicator, one that stifled whatever retaliation he had in mind.

"A hotel. A hotel in an extremely secluded area where I'm probably the only resident in the wing. Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm fine. The damn door wouldn't open," the voice on the other line snorted. He would've responded with a jab of his own, but the relief that Jason wasn't captured by Bergenz spies overwhelmed the need to.

Robin bit back a wry smile, replacing it with a dejected sigh.

"Did Bruce call?"

"Does he ever?" Jason hummed.

 _No._

Of course, both of them knew that. Their guardian's odd parenting habits somehow revolved around the habitual cold shoulder and pretending as if he never had any wards to begin with, no matter how in need of actual guidance they might be.

They should've been used to it; Robin had been for a while. The younger, on the other hand, was always a little miffed that Bruce never bothered, even if he never answered the calls, anyway. Jason would never admit that aloud, not even if Robin admitted he was beginning to feel similarly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't get one either," he shrugged, a despondent smirk on his lips.

Then came a snarky bite from the receiver.

"Why in Heaven's name would that make me feel better? God knows he'd rather chastise me about being more careful than argue about responsibilities and morals and whatnot with you. Which is fucking _odd_ , Dick, considering you're the one on the same side of law as him."

Robin tensed, grip clenched around the comm. It was the most obvious secret that his issues with his father did not stem from occupation, but rather pride (1). Sickening, heavy pride that was the only thing he had left in common with Bruce. Sometime down the road, that would probably be gone, too.

"You were always his favorite." Jason's voice was small, a strange occurrence that was rarer than any.

There was a desperate shove against the sudden awkwardness that engulfed them. The conversation was heading into a danger zone— a topic he did not want to justify otherwise, again. Not because of the pity in his voice, or what lie it could've been. But because it was true. _Was_. But Robin didn't want to dig further into that hole again. It was one he'd visited way too often, and each time it just got deeper.

"Nah, Barbra was," he tried, "Still is."

He heard a frustrated garbling on the opposite end, accompanied by a slow exhale of air.

"Yeah..." the other responded, "Didn't call her either, though."

The relief that came was soured and... wrong.

"God," he barked out a sharp cackle, "It was _Christmas_."

"He doesn't celebrate Christmas," Jason retorted rather defensively, "and neither do we."

"Touché," Robin answered, sensing that if he chose to argue more it'd probably only make the call more difficult, "Have any plans for the rest of New Years?"

The other voice laughed, a warm one that brushed off the tense subject that had both of them firing vague, jabbing comments.

" _Dick_ , a 24-karat golden frame nearly smashed my baby-makers into my stomach. I think I'll take a break for a while," the other was surely grinning, "Besides, it's gonna take the feds some time to realize it was me."

That made both of them laugh, himself a little more.

"How's that girlfriend of yours, by the way?" Jason continued, "She still hot?"

A rush of something foreign pooled in his chest, something cold and frigid, that felt suspiciously similar to misery and desperation. Robin shook his arms, clearing his throat as if it'd help remove the feeling from his system.

He hadn't even bothered to correct Jason on the fact that they'd broken up months ago, too bothered by the discomfort that seemed to seep in every direction. After a moment of clarity, he prayed it'd left. One look at the rising daylight told him completely otherwise.

 _Starfire._

Oh, Jesus. _Starfire_.

"She's..."

He didn't know. He didn't know anything about her. Not even if she was...

A slight prod to his eye caused them to shoot open, glaring at the city at his feet. Cars were beginning to emerge. Business men were starting to yell. Children screamed. Pedestrians strolled. The city was awakening. And there was no better spot to see it all than the Coastal Brokers roof that he loved so very much. The same one that Starfire hated.

Well, Starfire never hated the Coastal Brokers building. She hated heights. And that particular building happened to be the tallest one in Jump.

It wasn't that she was scared of them. Not in the same sense ordinary people were, at least. She was terrified of the slips in control during flights. The moments she couldn't regain balance and had to depend on someone else. Most of the time that someone else ended up being him.

If not for the slight waver in her step when landing from a flight, or the flashing part of her lips in protest that disappears quicker than it comes, then for the shaking of her strong figure on the broken ledge of a building that one night on patrol.

He was sure it was that very building.

"Dick?"

The crumbling debris from the crushed pavement on which they'd been standing on had knocked her right onto the edge of the roof, and the split second before she plummeted would engrave itself in his mind through guilt and if only's.

She'd turned around to look at him, face relaxed.

Robin liked to think it was because she knew he was there.

The fall would've been a pretty hard one. Had he not caught her in time, that is. There hadn't been an exchange of words. He hadn't asked her if she was alright- he'd made sure she was. Instead, they traded faint smiles and called it a night.

Other times, when he'd catch her gazing off the edge of the roof, he'd realize how... alone she looked.

 _"It is an elongated drop,"_ she'd whisper, slouched and small against the howling wind.

Then he'd appear behind her, making himself just as small, for her sake, and say, _"Not one you can't take, I'm sure."_

She'd smile brightly like she did, though her eyes still screamed something he could never put his finger on. It was a murkiness in the green. A speckle in the shine. As if she were the last person in the world, and there was nobody to save her from that inevitable fall. Except there was.

He would always catch her, he always had.

"You're freaking me out... Are you okay?"

She never fell.

"I'm divine."

But _they_ fell.

Apart, they were the epitome of elegance. And then they exchanged glances. Held hands. Shared a kiss or two. Profusely blushed and looked away from one another. And fell.

Together, they plummeted. And not because of love.

That was not love; he'd be damned if it was.

"...So like I was saying," the voice on the receiver said slowly, "How's banging the alien chick?"

This time, Robin was paying attention, and the jab from Jason hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Jason," he said snippily, "You know we broke up. Last August. It's been a while. "

He could hear the groan that was replied, followed by, "Wow, that sucks. But you did bang her, right? At least once."

Robin cleared his throat again, overwhelmed by annoyance. "Sure." Of course, he would've opted for a sudden topic change, but without a certain answer, he was sure Jason would only keep pestering him.

"Aw, _Dick_ ," Jason mocked gently, "Grow a _dick_."

"That's so fucking original, Jason."

"You don't even know the meaning of fucki—"

"Can we not?" Robin hissed lightly, teeth grit. The headache had returned, though this time it wasn't because of reminiscing alien relationships.

"Sorry," the intangible voice apologized half-heartedly. "I didn't know you were so _sensitive_ about her."

He wasn't. Despite that, he thought of her too much, anyway. Too much that it hurt.

To the first kiss they shared. The kiss of the century, Beastboy and Cyborg liked to call it. And there was a time that he really believed so, too.

To the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. A manifestation of happiness, and later the salt to his wound. To her beautiful nature that could be topped by no other. She was not perfect. Though few may see, far from it. But she was the one thing that he had that nobody else did, and that in itself was beautiful.

To the times she'd made him believe in happy endings. When she'd made him feel loved. Even if it was only knee deep.

But also to the times that weren't so happy. The times that left a dry sensation in his mouth and a bitter need to have the last word, even if there was barely any talking involved in the first place. To the attempts at understanding, the trying and pretending. The dry tears that felt so wrong, so wasted.

To the screaming that never happened, the raised voices that should've happened. The emptiness between that was a million times worse than the red, heated anger that should've been there. Instead, the feeling of disappointment and hollow guilt.

To the endless nights he told himself he loved her, that he wanted her. Even though they slept in separate rooms again and barely made eye contact out side of battle. Even though the tabloids had glorified the one smile he'd given her when they'd defeated Plasmus in under fifteen minutes without harming a single brick of public property, and he'd caught her scanning the page, face void of emotion, and tossing it right into the recycling bin. Even though she'd still hugged him every now and then, but they both knew that it didn't feel quite the same.

To the eyes that actually glanced at each other across the dinner table, not in flirtation but rather in pleading. For an end.

To the golden pair (that was never really a pair in the first place) that crumbled not with a scream, but with a whimper. Just as T.S Eliot had predicted.

To the girl he'd never really loved like that. But he wished he somehow could've.

He was okay with having Starfire as his last relationship. Optimism seemed like a good way to die. Her, it was always her. As a teammate, companion, but most of all, friend. And he'd never see her again, would he?

"I'm just..." Robin tried to cover the crack of his voice, humming lowly, "Can we please just talk about something else?"

Jason's line stayed silent, the only sound audible being his even breathing. "Of course," he finally answered, "How's the team?

The tensing of his figure wasn't unintentional. Blood running cold and color draining from his face, he blinked slowly. Oh, yeah.

 _Oh. No._

The Team. The... team that was his family. His family that he's spent the last six years with.

His family that kicked ass with favorably exotic looks. His family that had a playlist of the Violent Femmes, Tupac, and Tamaranean baroque music, which was annually played at their Holiday dinner hosted at the Tower. His family that preferred cheap Target spandex over officiated Kevlar, his family that made midnight trips to the grocery store simply for packets of string cheese.

His family that forced him into finally watching _Love Actually_ (which was the sole reason he hated romcoms), then sat through an entire six hours of his Al Pacino marathon. His family that ate waffles every Sunday morning, regardless of the havoc outside.

His family that was uncharacteristically organized about laundry and more often than not procrastinating on dishes. His family that made Fruitloops cake and drank orange juice mimosas for everyone's birthday. Every year.

His family that...

That was... gone. Gone.

No way in hell he was openly admitting to anyone that the Titans were missing. Nobody could know.

Chaos would surely ensue; lawyers from City Hall requesting fund cancellations, citizens placed in craze while villains across the coast pounced at the chance to be a part of the havoc. Bruce would probably call for once, and only to yell at him along with the rest of the League. Paparazzi would flood the Tower, and hiding would definitely not be an option.

And he wanted to grief _alone_. Preferably in tranquility.

But—

"They're good. For the most part. Tired, I guess. We busted some creature tearing up the old library last night," he shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Jason was silent on the other end for a long time.

"Is that so?" he hummed, "I haven't read about any novel-consuming beasts in Times yet."

The older raised an eyebrow, huffing incredulously at the statement.

"You read?"

"No, Dick, I find out all knowledge of disappearing Titans via mind-control. You got me."

His head cocked to the left, eyes squinted in confusion.

"Disappearing Titans—?"

Suddenly, a gust of something horrible swept into his vision. Venom seeping up his throat and spilling all through his mouth. This terrible, dreadful feeling bled straight into his sight, drowning his lungs and ruining his mood. It was prickly, flashing, and constricting, as if he'd held his breath for a whole hour in a toxic vat. No, no, no, no.

For a second, Robin contemplated bashing his skull against the brick wall behind him, only pausing last second when Jason spoke again.

"You're good at quite a number of things, kid, but lying isn't one of them."

Had Robin not been so consumed by the utter rage and worry of Fat-Mouth-Jay knowing, he would've gladly corrected him with the satisfying fact that Robin was, in fact, the older of the two, therefor could not be addressed as 'kid'.

But in all seriousness, how did Jason even _know_? There's wasn't a single person out there that could've known. Robin wasn't irrational enough to publicize West Coast's largest Teen Hero Headquarters gone AWOL. Nobody knew. Not a soul could've known—

Shit. Robin howled internally, pinching his nose bridge in frustration.

 _Jinx._

A jumbled mess of profanities rushed through his mind, majority of them mixing together to form a whole new level of explicit. Oh, God. Bruce was gonna kill him.

"Is that why you called—?" Robin hissed, slamming his palm against the side of his head.

"Okay— Dick, just— Just calm down, okay?" Jason sucked in a breath. "First of all, dude, _you_ called _me_ — Heaven fucking knows why! After like, what, seven months of silence? Hey, by the way, my eighteenth birthday was fabulous, thanks for asking. Second, it's not that big of a deal. Just breathe, alright? Before you make us all age eighty years."

"I called you to— you know what, never mind why I called. Who told?" he growled lightly, already expecting the answer.

The other barked a laugh, sharp and condescending, which did nothing to soothe the headache that'd suddenly slaughtered his skull.

"Don't play stupid, Dick," he chuckled pitifully, "it doesn't suit you."

" _Jason_ ," Robin paused, eyes narrowing and hating the pleading undertones of his voice. The ringing was coming back to his ears, and he didn't like it at all.

"God, the witch, okay?" he responded curtly as a muted noise was heard. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Robin groaned, slamming his forehead against his fist in frustration. Of course she did, that bitch. This was her way of slapping him in the face with a handful of karma after he walked out on her three days ago at the club.

"When— what? I swear to all that is Holy, Jason, if you tell _anybody_ \- and I mean _anybody_ -I will personally-"

"Relax, dude," the voice on the other line reassured, and Robin could practically hear the roll of his eyes, "She just texted me. I didn't tell the old man. And nobody else down there knows."

Robin exhaled violently, pinching his nose bridge and bringing the comm away from his face to groan.

"Oh my God," he muttered, smashing his forehead against the wall behind him. "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. Oh my God. She texted you? She texted you?! Jason- texts can be traced!"

"I'm well aware of that, thank you, which is why I use a disposable phone. Motorola flip-thingy. As for Jinx, the government doesn't even know she exists."

He couldn't see, there was just a void of red anger surrounding him. None of this week had gone according to plan; starting from the missing teammates right down to the damnable contract that Jason probably knew about. And then, a sudden rush of cold air in his lungs. Holy shit. The contract. The girl in the alley. The demon- the soul. The-

"What do you know?" Robin managed to get out as evenly as possibly.

Jason sighed for the umpteenth time.

"Besides the fact that you're teammates are MIA and the southern half of the west coast is probably going to go up in flames within the next week? Literally nothing."

There was a gush of relief that filled his system, the pressure from his chest released from the confinement of his ribcage. He glanced beyond him, straight at Raven, suspicion and shivers creeping up his spine.

This was going to be a beautifully long day.

"When're you getting back?"

"Gosh, you do care," Jason laughed, though less enthusiastically, "and in about a day or two. Depending on air traffic."

"Look, Jason," he murmured into the comm, fingers toying with the volume button, "I don't have much time, nor patience, but hear me out, okay?"

"...Okay?" the younger answered suspiciously after a long pause.

"I need a favor."

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Raven's voice was barely audible against the morning breeze.

He tilted his head, cradling it in his lap. The droopiness of his eyes was very real, now. So much that he hardly registered her question.

"The warehouse?"

"No, Heaven."

As she spoke, the blaring of cars and chatter of voices rose, indicating the awakening much more than the finally blue above.

It took the power of a pause and a breath to realize that Raven— who was a whole different era of frightening— had told a joke. And it took the power of three more pauses to realize that he actually found it hilarious.

"I mean...it's in Jump. So not far."

Her eyes lazily opened, staring at him with the funniest dullness he could imagine.

"Groundbreaking."

Despite feeling the heat rise in his face, Robin bit his tongue from remarking with something equally as condescending and sarcastic, choosing to seat himself like her, legs dangling off the roof. Only he was wise enough to place himself a good four feet away.

Running a hand down his face, he closed his eyes, abruptly noticing how tired he was and how little sleep he'd received in the last thirty-six hours. It was a miracle he was still cognitively functioning.

"We're close. Very close."

Suddenly, he didn't feel the need to one up Raven. Or argue.

"We've been wandering buildings," she mumbled, throwing a pebble off the side of the roof.

"Aren't you observant."

This time, Raven sat up, pinching her nose bridge and brushing the flakes off of her face. The bubbly victory inside him felt more nauseating than it should've.

Especially when she started to crawl. Literally crawl. But for some reason it didn't look as sultry as it should've.

Starfire would never crawl. Starfire held far too much dignity and air for that type of behavior. He knew it wast right to compare the two. That was unfair to both parties. After all, demons were not princesses, and princesses were not demons. And Raven was not Starfire. Which was a matter of bitter alleviation.

Then she was standing. Uncomfortably close. So close that their foreheads were grazing, and he could see the lines on her lips. She smelled exactly like he expected she would. Ash and vanilla. Booze and roses.

He wasn't sure if the brush of her nose against his was intentional, but he leaned in anyway. Even within such close proximities, she looked so ready.

But she didn't raise her voice. She didn't get angry. She stood there stoically, staring at the flickering midnight headlights lining her vision. He wondered if she'd ever gotten a chance to see the city like this.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" There was still an abrasiveness to her words, though Robin thought maybe that was just natural for her. The question still caught him off-guard, forcing him to reevaluate this whole plan of his. He shrugged, making a rumbly sound with his lips, causing her to stutter back a step, though remaining within elbow's reach.

Robin crooked a smirk of sorts.

She looked prettier when she didn't have the upper hand.

"Would it make you feel better if I said yes?"

He watched for her reaction, expecting a blow out, a scream, a frown, anything. Instead, she stared blankly at him, that same shrewd gaze unwavering as if to say, 'You're not funny.'

"Just— where is it?" Raven sighed, uncrossing her arms from their defensive stand and gesturing at the yellow comm still clutched tightly in his fist.

Robin breathed through his nose, pressing a few buttons on his communicator, a tiny red dot popping up right next to his current location. Right across the street, matter of fact.

Gripping it one last time with a toss for reassurance, he flashed her shaky rows of crisp whites.

"It's close. We're close."

So he'd lied. The warehouse was gone. It'd been gone for a while.

Two years, actually.

* * *

 **GummyBearsAreAwesome1:** Thank you :) I will try my best!

 **Enumuri:** Oh stop! You're making me blush; And you are the sweetest! Chapter 2 was a real doozy to work on, and I couldn't think of an appropriate, non-clichéd way to introduce Raven. AH! I love that you loved the poetics of it, because I think that was one of my favorite parts as well. But yeah, thankyousoomuch!

 **Celces:** Yeah, sorry about that. I know a lot of people don't like smoking, and find it unattractive, but I figured Raven liked to do things to purposefully piss people off. Sorry you didn't like it, but thanks for the review!

 **Poison's Ivy:** Yay! I was worried the snark and dark was way overdone, but I guess it's better to be consistent, right? Thanks, dearie!

 **doitforthefic:** Oh my gosh, and here I thought this was an angsty HBO soap opera that airs after 3 am. I really don't want to make it overbearingly angsty, though (this fandom has too much of that already). Raven's heritage is actually something I really struggled with, because the show gives her the perspective of self-loathing due to it, except this story is literally about her being proud of herself (demon eyes and all). Anyway, thank you so much!

A/N:

(1) Did you catch it? *wiggles eyebrows*

Yes, Jason. Because Jinx is probably hungover and Robin really needed someone other than Raven to narrate about. I just had to talk about Starfire. His relationship with her/the Titans is not void because of the contract. It's not RobStar, I just didn't want to ignore Robin's past feelings for her.

Yours faithfully,

Yellerumbrellas.


End file.
